


Thunderbirds Are Go - “Grapple Goof”

by countessofsnark



Category: Thunderbirds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-14 01:26:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15377649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countessofsnark/pseuds/countessofsnark
Summary: Based on the following prompt by wonderavian:Scott catches a cold and tries to hide it from everybody. He’s is successful in doing so right up until he sneezes during a rescue and fires his grappling hook at the wrong moment.





	Thunderbirds Are Go - “Grapple Goof”

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the following prompt by wonderavian: 
> 
> _Scott catches a cold and tries to hide it from everybody. He’s is successful in doing so right up until he sneezes during a rescue and fires his grappling hook at the wrong moment._

‘Don’t you think there’s something up with Scott?’ John asks Alan, who is down in the kitchen, messing with a piece of code as part of his latest homework assignment.

‘Not sure what you mean,’ Alan shrugs.

‘He’s acting like he’s hiding something. I just hope it won’t interfere with the current mission. Speaking of which, he and Virgil should have reached the scene of the accident by now. Thunderbird 5 out.’

 

Meanwhile, in the Australian outback, Scott is maneuvering Thunderbird 1 above a sinkhole. Virgil, who is wearing the impressive Jaws of Life, is busy digging out the last of a group of bikers who got into trouble when the lone highway they were travelling collapsed. 

‘Almost… Got… You… Out…’ he groans, stretching his arm towards the panick stricken man down below. It’s useless. Any further and he’ll be pulled in as well. He sighs and taps the communication device inside his suit’s green sash.

‘Thunderbird 1, I could use a little hand here.’

‘Coming up, Thunderbird 2. Hang in there!’ 

_Scott’s voice sounded a little bit weird,_ Virgil thinks. _Maybe that was just radio interference? And besides, he doesn’t appear as responsive and snappy as he usually is during rescues._

Inside Thunderbird 1, Scott preps his vehicle’s agile grappling hook. It has to fire at the precise moment Virgil jumps clear of the sinkhole in order to help raise the poor biker. But Scott feels his bravado crumbling. His nose is starting to twitch, a tell-tale sign that his cold is taking the upper hand.

_Not now. Dammit, not fucking now._

Virgil hops out of the sinkhole and extends a thumbs-up sign to Thunderbird 1. All clear, ready for grappling action.

Scott focuses on the target in the dark hole below. His finger is poised over the grappling hook’s release button, his other hand controlling the coordinates. He takes a deep breath and…

‘HATCHOOOOO.’

His finger slips, hits the release button hard. His other hand, however, also moved an inch. The sleek grappling hook shoots out of Thunderbird 1’s belly, whizzing down to the sinkhole.

Just as Scott recovers from a very poorly timed sneeze, he hears an ear-splitting cry through the comms. 

Down on the ground, Virgil is curled up in a pitiful heap inside the bulky yellow power suit. Tears are running down his cheeks while he’s uttering curses that would make a sailor blush. His gloved hands are firmly pressed against his crotch. The grappling hook, however, is not impressed and continues to cling to its new target with the ferocity of a pitbull.

Up in Thunderbird 1, Scott is not sure which to do first: apologise profusively, or retract the hook as slowly as possible.


End file.
